


Mistake

by ms_nawilla



Series: Star Wars One Shots and Abandoned WIPS [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Caregiving, Confusion, Disability, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, No Resolution, Seduction, Unrequited Love, may be depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_nawilla/pseuds/ms_nawilla
Summary: He had read all the signs and they all pointed toward seduction.  Surely the Force would not lead him astray.





	Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot that had been the beginning of a fic that never grew legs. I could have sworn there was a bit more written but this is all that was on my computer. Written in 2011, never posted anywhere if I recall correctly.

The only sound was a whisper of dark silk as the deep robe slid across his back, draping him in shadows, cloaking him in night.  It had been a long time since this particular garment had been called into service, but he would accept no substitute.  The stars had aligned, the signs had all been there, and after so many _years_ , it was time to dust off old clothes, to return to his place, to fulfill his cherished role again.  It was time to act.  And he would act.  He did not reach the rank of Jedi Master because he let rare opportunities slip away.

He stepped out into the hall, sinking into the dim shadows like a leviathan into the waves.  Silent as an assassin, intent as a hunter, deadly as a Sith.  Well, he wasn’t technically deadly anymore, but the attitude was key, the mystique.  A little fantasy was healthy in any good seduction.

It had been a long time since he had been the seducer, and he grinned to himself as the thought sent a thrill up his spine.  Keeping to the shadows, that was all part of the game.  He crept down the hall, slinked down two flights in the back stairwell, then took the long way around the floor, through the small meditation garden.  Some unnamed flower was blooming in the night, and he fancied the rich scent was settling on him with the evening mist, another sensuous delight to bring to his lover. 

Perfect.

He wiped his thick leather boots on the path, mulch and leaves were _not_ seductive, and was rather pleased with himself when he did not stumble.  His confidence buoyed, he strode on, actively relishing that he was quite capably walking without his cane, even if it was over exceptionally smooth flooring.

A left, a right, another left, and there it was.  The second door on the left, the dark wood a charcoal gray where the glow of the track lighting hit it, and the all too familiar names picked out in bright blue on the name plate. 

_Kenobi, O.  Skywalker, A._

A quick scan with the Force confirmed the earlier signs.  The apprentice was in fact not home.  But the master was.  _Master?_   Even now, the title seemed strange.  Premature?  Or perhaps he simply wasn’t used to it.  He was used to Obi-Wan the padawan, Obi-Wan the young knight.  And technically Obi-Wan was only master to one, would not be a Jedi Master until Anakin was full-trained and knighted.  But in his heart, his mind, his memories, Obi-Wan would always be something of a young, innocent padawan, trying so hard to please.  Surely he hadn’t lost all of that youthful appeal in the past . . . five years?  Eight years?  Sithhell, however long it was.

His Force scan had not only told him Anakin was well-away from their quarters, on a padawan retreat off-world, free from his master’s eye and likely pursuing some equally unleashed agemates.  It has also shown him that his former padawan, the object of his seduction was in fact home alone, and not entertaining agemates of his own.  However confident he might be in his own deductive abilities, Obi-Wan had never been very adept at the Living Force.  He _knew_ what the signs meant, what the Force had been telling him, what Obi-Wan had been telling him, but young men, even Jedi, were impatient.  It was well within the realm of possibility that Obi-Wan would think his signals had gone astray, that the message had not been received, and would have taken another in his stead should he not come tonight. 

But no, either Obi-Wan was confident or desired no other.  And why should he desire another, when everything had finally fallen into place?

He pressed his thumb to the reader plate and after a long moment the door opened with a loud click.  He winced, wanting to keep some element of surprise, but really, how much surprise could there be?  The shy, seductive glances, the pointed way in which Anakin’s off-world engagement had been stated, that the door opened to his touch despite the fact that he had never lived in these quarters?  They had been through a rough patch a while back, when Obi-Wan’s duties no longer allowed him to wait, to walk along at his old master’s slower pace, when young Anakin’s needs had simply taken up too much time and Qui-Gon had been forced to find support in other places.  But that time was in the past.  He was stronger now, wiser now, well-grounded in the Force and for the most part independent.  He was a full man again, and though he must admit he was an old man, he wasn’t quite so old that he was too blind to see the signs or too feeble to act on them.

The door slid shut behind him, leaving him in darkness, the only light coming from the large windows of the common room.  But Jedi Masters, even Jedi Masters in rehab, didn’t need light if they had the Force at their fingertips.  He could remember the layout of these quarters from last week, when he had been over for dinner.  The firm couch, the small coffee table, the kitchen and dining nook to one side, the bedrooms to the other.  And in the larger bedroom . . . yes, the bright light in the Force, so familiar, and yet so much more mature than he remembered it.  Yes, his padawan had grown into quite a man, a skilled knight, no longer a child.  Not that he had ever felt like a child when they had been vigorously exploring their passions, but . . . of course he wouldn’t have slept with a child, but when he thought about his mental image of Obi-Wan as his apprentice, he always remembered the immature youth, so eager to please, so much room for improvement, so much growing left to do.  And now he was so complete, so balanced.  It was bothersome to have no clear memory of the middle stage.

No matter.  He would remember or he wouldn’t.  Clearly it had happened if Obi-Wan had become the great Jedi Knight he was today.  He’d just have to ask, subtly.  Pick up the missing pieces over time.  Be patient.  Obi-Wan was patient.  Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind the gap.  Besides, tonight they would be too busy making new memories.  And the Amorian lubricant he’d brought would more than make up for lost time.

He entered the bedroom silently, his breath catching at the sight of his former padawan lying in bed, illuminated by the faint glow of the never-ending stream of aircars passing outside the window.  Obi-Wan lay on his back, bare-chested, clean white sheets draped over his waist.  Hair just damp from his evening shower, clean-shaven again like his padawan days, and fast asleep, he’d clearly worked hard to create a suitably seductive scene.  Each muscle, each faint scar, stood out in relief on his skin, pale in the dim light.  The cut on his chin from his last mission had healed, scabs and bacta gone, almost indiscernible in his nearly perfect face. 

He was the only missing piece.  Not for long.

With a Jedi’s care, he placed the lubricant on the bedside table, glad he had had the foresight to bring it along.  Obi-Wan was still a bit socially awkward and didn’t have all that many relationships, but Qui-Gon knew he had entertained both male and female lovers while his former master had been incapacitated.  It was entirely possible that the young knight might not be well-stocked if his latest regular bedpartner had been female, and as far as he knew Anakin only made goo goo eyes at the ladies, so there would be no raiding the padawan stash for anything other than condoms.  Best to be prepared.  And he was prepared.  Fully capable of mapping out his seduction, carrying out the arrangements and executing the plan.  Obi-Wan wouldn’t need to engage in clumsy, self-conscious flirtation anymore.

Qui-Gon Jinn was back in business.

Lowering himself into the chair across from the bed, Qui-Gon pulled off his boots with a grimace.  Thick leather boots would probably go a long way in cementing his place as a masculine ideal but falling over while he tried to take them off standing up would end the encounter quickly.  Obi-Wan was such a worrywart when it came to his health.

Boots successfully removed, he stood, his cloak flowing around him.  Obi-Wan stirred in his sleep, familiar enough with his presence to not awaken immediately.  Such trust.  He would make sure it was not ill-placed, though really, how could it be?  He had been Obi-Wan’s master for more than a decade, had been in his life, in his home, in his everyday business for much longer.  He had even been in his bed. 

And it had been far too long since he had been in that bed for a _good_ reason.  And a naked Obi-Wan Kenobi was a _very_ good reason.

A touch to the clasp at his throat and the robe fell away, sliding down and drifting across Obi-Wan’s covered body like a sheer mist, leaving them both bare and naked.  The knight stirred slightly, the sensuous silk helping to slowly rouse him from his light sleep.  Soon he would wake to find his hopes rewarded and greater delights in store.  Qui-Gon had lost many things to the Sith and had fought hard to gain them back, but his virility was never one of them.

In fact, he was already growing hard as he slipped between those soon to be quite dirty cotton sheets, and he only grew more so as the scent of his lover washed over him, as he felt Obi-Wan’s warm body chase away the chill from his long walk here through the Temple halls, clothed only in his boots and the silk robe over his naked flesh.  Obi-Wan murmured in his sleep, eyelids fluttering, as Qui-Gon nuzzled at his neck, suckling at that spot behind his ear while his hands trailed down that well-sculpted body, one on his firm belly, the other on his thigh, waiting for the first signs of awareness, the moans of pleasure, before going further.  He wanted his lover awake, after all.

A loud gasp.  Qui-Gon had started to smile against Obi-Wan’s neck, his good hand starting to slide upward toward more sensitive conquests when he suddenly found himself on his back, arms pushed over his head and his former apprentice on top of him, pinning him forcefully to the bed.

Well, well.  Not quite so awkward anymore.

“LIGHTS!”

Lights were good.  He could work with lights.  Perhaps Obi-Wan was not quite so bashful as he remembered.  And he would sure appreciate the show.

“Qui-Gon?”  Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, his cognitive mind perhaps not waking up as fast as his battle reflexes.  “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”  Qui-Gon grinned sunnily.  “I’m going to bed.”

“Going to bed?”  Obi-Wan shook his head again, confused and backed off, standing up and rubbing a hand over his face, trying to calm his adrenaline rush.  Pity, the hormones could be put to good use.  “This isn’t your room, Qui-Gon.  Did you get lost?”

_Lost?_

“I know where I am, Obi-Wan.  And I think you’ll agree, this is right where I belong tonight.” 

Obi-Wan tried to hide a yawn, obviously still not quite awake.  “Where you belong?”  He looked out his door into the common room, then turned back to the bed.  “Did you have a nightmare?”

_A nightmare?!_

“No!”  Was Obi-Wan really this Force-blind or was he being deliberately obtuse?  “I’m not a _child_ , Obi-Wan.”

“I’m well aware that you are not a child, but I’m still not clear as to why you are in my bed.”  Obi-Wan began to pace beside the bed.

_Deliberately obtuse.  Clearly_.

“Come now, Padawan.  What does the Force tell you?”  Qui-Gon pushed himself up on his elbow and pursed his lips.

Obi-Wan turned and stopped dead, staring at him.  “Why are you naked?”

“I was starting to think you’d never notice.”  Qui-Gon let his eyes move up and down over his former padawan’s well-muscled chest, his clenched hands, his . . . modest underwear.  “Why are you _not_ naked?”

It hadn’t seemed possible, but Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose even higher.

“Why would I be na—”

A loud pounding at the door interrupted the question.

“Temple Security.  Open up.”

Obi-Wan sighed, unsurprised.  “I’m coming!”

This was not the circumstances Qui-Gon had had in mind for such a declaration.  “Why are they here?”  He peered at the bedside table, suspicious.  “You hit the alarm button?”

His apparently clueless apprentice called back from the common room.  “I didn’t know who you were.”  He opened the door to the Temple Security officers.  “Thank you for coming.  I thought it was a security issue, but now I think it may be a medical problem.” 

Qui-Gon’s jaw dropped as his apparently dense and stupid former padawan led the officers to the bedroom.

“He must have come in while I was sleeping, and I think he may be having some sort of episode.”

_Episode?!_

“Obi-Wan!”  Qui-Gon sputtered with indignation.  “What is the matter with you?  If you changed your mind you could have just said so.  You didn’t have to call in security.”

The two officers looked at him questioningly, then turned to Obi-Wan.  “Well, Knight Kenobi,” the lieutenant picked up a corner of Qui-Gon’s cloak and raised an eyebrow.  “I take it you didn’t arrange this . . . interlude?”

“No, I did not.”

Qui-Gon glared at him, confusion turning to anger.  Was this all some sort of game, a ploy to embarrass him?

Obi-Wan was pacing again, running his hands through his hair, seemingly in exasperation.  “He has a history of neurological issues, and he’s sometimes behaved . . . inappropriately, but he’s never come into my room in the middle of the night . . . naked.”

“Inappropriately?”  When in Sithhell had he ever acted _inappropriately_?

The Lieutenant looked between the two of them doubtfully.  “So, this is unusual.”

“Yes.”  Obi-Wan glared at the man.  “He could be having another stroke.”

Outraged to the point of speechlessness, Qui-Gon stared at the deceitful snake that used to be his padawan.  It would have been one thing to change his mind, it would be another to call security before he recognized him, but to deny their relationship, to blame it on a _stroke_ of all things, after he had worked so hard for so long to get back to being himself, . . . that was totally beyond the pale.

“Sir Jedi.”  The other security officer approached Qui-Gon on the bed, shining a weak light into his face.  “Can you follow my finger?” 

Qui-Gon tried to stare a hole through the man’s forehead.

“I’m not sure if he’s being uncooperative or not, but we should probably take him down to the Healer’s Ward for an evaluation.”  He turned back to Obi-Wan, who had his arms crossed over his chest, acting as if he were self-conscious about being caught half-naked.  As if he hadn’t planned it.  “After we get him checked out, you can decide if you want to press charges.”

Obi-Wan hung his head, sighing.  “I don’t want to press charges.  I just want to make sure he’s not getting worse.”  He tipped his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “If he’s just confused . . . well, we can work that out without making it a legal issue, assuming I’m the only one he’s done this to.”

The officers nodded, then picked up the robe, the younger one turning it right side up.  “Alright, Master . . .”

“Jinn,” Obi-Wan supplied.

“Right, Master Jinn.  Come on now, let’s get your robe on and we’ll take you down to the healers and make sure you’re okay.  Come on now.” 

Qui-Gon glared at his former apprentice as he let the officers dress him.  Obi-Wan, uncharacteristically pale, slumped against the wall.

“I’ll get dressed and come down to the ward soon,” he told the officers.  “His regular healer is probably not on duty and they’ll need to know his history.”

Qui-Gon turned back to face his betrayer as he was led out the door.  “I won’t need _your_ help, with _my history_.”

“Hey, he can talk, that’s a good sign.”  The younger officer sounded cheerful as he led Qui-Gon out the door and into the hall.  Several neighboring Jedi had the questionable manners to duck back into their own rooms. 

The lieutenant held back a moment, catching Obi-Wan’s eye.  “Let us know if you change your mind about the charges.”

As the door closed behind them, Obi-Wan slid to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Since it may not be clear from what little was posted, the idea was that Qui-Gon Jinn became disabled after his injuries from fighting Darth Maul resulted in a stroke. This affected his memory and he was confusing his relationship with Xanatos (who he had an affair with) with his relationship with Obi-Wan (who he had not).


End file.
